Cracking Up
by nico78
Summary: A short little ditty about Olivia on the other side and how she is or is not coping with things... Projection Peter makes an appearance


**Cracking Up**

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Olivia didn't understand this craving she felt inside. She absolutely hated alcohol, yet she had the most overwhelming urge to find a bar and drown her sorrows. With Frank gone it was even worse. With him around, she could at least keep from caving in and buying a bottle. He kept her honest.

But here she stood in the corner drug store in the liquor aisle full of a bewildering amount of choices. And she'd been standing here for at least five minutes. Maybe ten. She'd sort of lost track of the time. She'd been doing that a lot lately. She knew what she wanted, but couldn't seem to find it. But _how_ did she know what she wanted?

She was looking for some whiskey. Bushmills, if they had it. She scanned the labels, but none said Bushmills. At that moment, a clerk from the store entered the aisle and started dusting the shelves of bottles. He must have been half her age. He kept looking over at her. The manager had sent him out on a mission to check on the woman that had been standing in the liquor aisle a little too long.

"Can I help you find something, miss?" he approached her. He tried to keep his distance and appear calm.

"I'm looking for Bushmills." Olivia answered. "But I can't seem to find it."

The clerk looked at her a moment and said, "Never heard of it. Are you sure that's the name? What kind of alcohol is it?"

"Whiskey. Irish Whiskey."

"They haven't made that stuff in years!" he scoffed. "You'll have to go to a specialty store, for that!" He eyed her suspiciously. A poster he had seen in the city had said to report anything that looked suspicious. And this lady was starting to strike him as highly suspicious. "Miss, you'll have to come with me. I need to see your Show-Me."

Olivia was flustered for a moment, but followed him anyways. She almost wanted to laugh, was she being detained for trying to purchase alcohol? How long had it been since THAT happened? Funny, that she couldn't EVER recalling that happening.

She had her Fringe Division badge out in seconds and handed it to him along with her show-me.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble, I'm in the middle of a stressful case," she explained. Lied.

The young clerk stopped walking and studied the badge, checking for any signs of a forgery. It was real. She was a real Fringe agent! He was going to tell all his friends as soon as he could that he had met a Fringe agent. He felt so important right at that moment, holding that badge, but the pretty agent cleared her throat to let him know she was waiting for a response.

"I'm very sorry, Agent Dunham." He handed the badge back to her. "You know, we have to report any strange activity." He backed away from her and she nodded. He was probably thinking about all the deadly viruses she must come in contact with as a result of her job. Little did he know that she also dated a virologist and who knows what kinds of viruses Frank could possibly come home with on a daily basis. Good thing keeping up-to-date with all her vaccinations was a requirement for her job.

She really should have known better. Hell, she was one of those **responsible** for coming up with the algorithms that let Fringe Division know what kinds of suspicious activity actually counted as suspicious activity! A woman standing alone for ten minutes in a store, asking for something not made in 40 years was highly suspect. And she couldn't fault this kid for doing his job as a good citizen. It made everyone safer in the end.

But why the heck was she even here? This was not like her at all. She didn't want a bottle of whiskey! Did she even know what whiskey tasted like? How did she know she'd even like it?

Olivia felt like she was cracking up inside. Maybe these tests that the Secretary wanted her to do, maybe they WERE a little too much to handle so soon after everything.

She looked up and noticed she was in the cosmetic aisle and turned to get out of the store as quickly as possible. But she caught a glimpse of someone familiar in a mirror on a display. She whirled around on him.

"You're not cracking up, Olivia."

The Secretary's kidnapped son stood a few feet away from her. He had been hiding behind a rack of sunglasses and now he stepped out to give her his full attention.

"In fact, you're starting to see things clearly for the first time."

Peter.

This was not the Secretary's son. He was Walter's son. Well, technically she guessed he WAS the Secretary's son.

But it was Peter.

Peter.

She knew him and couldn't deny it any longer. Her phone beeped and she answered it.

"Dunham."

"We have a case. We need you down here, Olivia."

It was Lincoln on the other end. They had a case. She could forget about the Whiskey. And forget about the Secretary's son. He had vanished anyways.

She was only cracking up, she should just go with the flow.

But she could still really use a drink.


End file.
